Chapter 15 #3
She spread her thighs farther apart, willing her body to open for him. He pressed further, the sting causing her to flinch. The air whooshed from her lungs as the cusp of the engorged head passed the seam of her opening. Just his crown caused her inner walls to expand past their limit.
Frankie could barely process the sensation before her body was forced to adapt, stretching at his deliberate, slow push forward.
When he finally filled her completely, the sound that came from her throat was not quite a whimper, not quite a moan—something wild and new.
It was the sound of something being remade.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped as his forehead dropped to hers.
She felt every pulse of his restraint in the way he didn’t just slam inside her. Instead, Liam rocked his hips, holding himself steady as he waited for her body to stretch for him. She adjusted her thighs, opening wider still, to allow him space, but the pressure of his advance was almost too much.
A primal groan ripped from his chest as he released her wrists and gripped her hip, tilting her body up. Her arms felt weak as she grabbed his arms, her fingers dug crescent moons into his biceps, desperate for leverage.
He lowered his head, his cheek pressed against hers. She felt his breath and lips against the rim of her outer ear, his words acting as a powerful aphrodisiac. “You want me, all of me. Don’t you?”
She nodded, her nails marking his skin. “Please, please.”
“Good girl.”
He pressed another inch forward, and it was as if the world contracted to only this—the tension and heat at her center, the slow, involuntary melting of her resistance, and the wild, electric thrill of it all.
Frankie’s head fell back, her mouth opening in a gasp she tried to stifle but couldn’t. “Holy—” she tried, but he cut her off with a kiss, full and deep and greedy, swallowing the rest of her words. The need in him was barely contained.
The burn, the stretch, the fullness—she hadn’t known she could feel like this.
Her whole body shook as he built the rhythm, just a little, withdrawing and then pressing in with exquisite patience, taking his time so she was forced to feel every nerve ending spark with new sensation.
He finally bottomed out, the impact of his hips against hers making her whole body seize, and she realized she was holding her breath.
“Fuck,” he gritted out against her mouth, and she could feel the tremor that ran through him.
He eased back, just a fraction, and then thrust forward, slow and measured, his eyes locked on hers like he needed to see everything she was feeling.
His left hand on her hip, his right tangled in her hair, tilting her head back so he could bite along her jaw, her ear, her throat, wherever he could taste her skin.
Every time he moved, the friction sent shockwaves through her, and the pain gave way to pressure and then to pure, unfiltered pleasure that shimmered through every cell.
Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, pulling him impossibly closer, needing him deeper, wanting to be filled to the brim with him, with everything he was.
“Frankie,” he whispered again, softer this time, as he pressed his lips to her cheek and then her eyelids, as if to soothe away the intensity. But he didn’t stop moving, not for a second, as if they’d built momentum and it was too late to slow down.
Frankie found herself saying things she never thought she’d say, letting herself make every sound, every plea, every needy gasp, and none of it mattered but the way he responded.
The way he tipped her hips higher, changing the angle, and the way it made explosions burst behind her eyes.
The way he seemed to feel her every desire and anticipate her need, as if they were one organism, fused together.
He drove into her with a punishing rhythm, every plunge designed to push her closer to the edge. Her nails clawed at his back, at his arms. She was losing herself, and she wanted to be lost. That was the point, wasn’t it? To be consumed. To be undone.
She met every thrust with her own, every time feeling his pubic bone grind against her swollen clit, sparking explosions of pleasure up her spine.
Nothing existed, nothing mattered, except the two of them, the sound of his breathing, his voice in her ear, and the obscene, animal rhythm of their bodies, until her entire body seized, and Liam’s grip tightened, holding her together as her orgasm tore her apart.
Wave after wave of pleasure claimed her in an earth-shattering climax, she lost herself completely.
After what felt like a small eternity, Frankie floated back to reality.
Liam was still moving inside of her. Her inner walls were pulsing around him as he pressed in and pulled out, every drive sending new tremors rippling through her belly and thighs.
Within seconds, his entire body tensed and shuddered as he buried his face in her neck.
A primal moan tore from his throat as her inner walls milked him.
Frankie felt every throb and every pulse, and she wanted to keep every drop of him inside her forever.
When Liam collapsed on top of her, breathless with exhaustion, they lay tangled together, skins slick and bodies trembling.
Frankie buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, savoring the weight of his body above her.
He was heavy, substantial, and anchoring.
She felt, for the first time in a long time, safe and happy. She never wanted him to move.
Liam’s thumb traced lazy circles on her hip as she felt tears begin to fall down her cheek. He must have felt them fall because he pushed up and looked down at her.
“Fuck, I hurt you.”
She shook her head, smiling. “No, you didn’t. It’s not that. I’m happy. These are happy tears. I’ve never been happier in my life.”
Liam searched her eyes for less than a second before being satisfied with her response.
The moment he was, his body relaxed, he smiled, rolled off her, and pulled her to him.
She snuggled into his side and rested her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her and held onto her like a lifeline.
Frankie listened to his heart—still racing, but slowing to a steady, soothing beat.
They lay like that for a long time, silent, the world reduced to the sound of their breathing.
“I didn’t use anything.” His voice was low and gravelly.
She blinked, still fuzzy-brained. “What?”
“Condom. I didn’t use a condom. I’m clean, but…”
“I have an IUD. Plus, we used protection.” Which should have been her first clue that Tristan was cheating on her.
He said it was because he didn’t trust only one form of birth control, she guessed she should thank him that he’d at least not wanted to give her an STD. “And I haven’t had sex in…a long time?”
“How long is a long time?”
Frankie had to think about it. It wasn’t over the summer, he’d been busy with Emmanuelle’s case. Before that he’d had a few other high-profile cases. She honestly couldn’t remember.
“At least a year, maybe eighteen months.”
Damn, how had she not noticed that? How had it been that long since she hadn’t had sex with her fiancé, and she hadn’t even realized it?
Liam went very still, and she wondered if he was going to get up. Or maybe say he needed to take her home. She wouldn’t blame him. She’d dropped a lot of bombs on him and then forbidden him to comment. And just brought up her sex life with his brother.
She knew they’d have to talk about it, all of it. And she would. Tomorrow. She just wanted tonight. Just this one perfect night.
Her mind was coming up with her arguments for her ‘perfect night’ case when his arms tightened around her, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
She snuggled closer to him and felt her eyes drifting shut.
She wanted to stay awake and live in this moment forever, but her body had other ideas.